


The Hale Swans

by ophelianipples



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: King Stiles Stilinski, M/M, fairytale AU, princess hair derek hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-01-07 04:29:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12225780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ophelianipples/pseuds/ophelianipples
Summary: “But remember -” said the fairy - “from the moment you commence your task, until it is finished, even should it occupy years of your life, you must not speak. The first word you utter will pierce through the hearts of your sisters like a deadly dagger. Their lives hang upon your tongue.”An AU of 'The Wild Swans' in which Derek tries to save his sisters and Stiles is fascinated by his odd behaviour (and stunning good looks).





	1. a woman scorned

**Author's Note:**

> I do not claim to own any of the Teen Wolf characters, they belong to Teen Wolf. Also, I based this story HEAVILY on the fairy tale from 1838, "The Wild Swans", see link here: http://hca.gilead.org.il/wild_swa.html 
> 
> All of the not-Stereky bits are probably almost word for word the original fairy tale. I don't know how I feel about this, on one hand it seems very dodgy, but on the other hand it's cool to be able to read the original fairytale in this new context.
> 
> Having said that, I have left out a lot of details from the original, and changed the settings and some of the plot, also made it less religious-themed. 
> 
> Oh, one other reference I used was for the spell that the witch casts in chapter 1. There's this weird version of the fairytale on youtube, voiced by Sigourney Weaver, which is where I got that wording for the spell. See link here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FOQIDFs7bw0&t=332s
> 
> Anyway I hope you like it :)

Far away in the land to which the swallows fly when it is winter, dwelt a werewolf pack with eleven daughters and one son. The eleven daughters were strong, smart, and fierce, as was their brother, Derek. They were indeed very happy, but it was not to remain so always.

Our story begins when the parents of the young werewolves perished in a tragic fire, leaving their uncle as their guardian. He was a good uncle, but troubled and restless, scarred by the loss of his sister. He courted a woman but scorned her for another. The woman, mad with a lust for revenge, turned her sights to his nieces and nephew.

She trapped the young wolves with mountain ash. “Come, speechless, restless creatures, be banished from my sight,” she chanted. A green, flickering glow filled the room. “Fly west away, be birds by day, and fall to earth at night.”

The woman wished to turn them to ugly pigeons, but the sisters had such nobility of spirit that they instead transformed into majestic white swans.

It just so happened that Derek was taking a walk through the forest when this occurred. As he entered their territory again, he felt the woman’s gaze on him, and looked up to see her in an upstairs window, pointing a thin finger down as if to smite him. She wished to transform Derek along with his sisters. However, he was too good and too innocent for witchcraft to have any power over him.

The witch snarled in frustration and disappeared, and moments later Derek watched in wonder as eleven white swans flew from the window, one by one, driven west by some instinct.

Derek called for his sisters, and unease settled in his bones as they did not call back. In fact, he could not hear anything from inside the house, not a single heartbeat, or laugh, or yell. He searched their home thrice for any sign of his sisters and found not a trace. Not even their uncle could be found. Finally, he packed up some light belongings and trudged sorrowfully into the forest, in hopes that they would one day be reunited.

 

* * *

* * *

 

Derek stopped for the night in the woods, leaning his head against the stump of a tree as if it were a pillow. All nature was still, and the soft, mild air fanned his forehead. The light of hundreds of glow-worms shone amidst the grass and the moss, like green fire; and if he touched a twig with his hand, ever so lightly, the brilliant insects fell down around him, like shooting stars.

All night long Derek dreamt of his sisters. They were children again, playing together. He saw them shifted, playing in the woods with tiny fangs and glowing eyes reflecting the sunlight. Birds in the trees sung mournful songs; but as the day grew old, they darted down from the trees and spoke to Derek and his sisters, only to return to the trees again with the return of the Sun. When he awoke from this dream, the Sun was high in the sky, but Derek could not see him through the thick canopy of trees, could only feel his warmth.

Derek continued to walk through the forest, and came across an old woman collecting berries in her basket. He stopped to assist her and he asked her if she had seen eleven sisters traveling through the forest.

“No,” replied the old woman, “But I saw yesterday eleven swans swimming on the river close by.” Then she led Derek to a sloping bank, and at the foot of it wound a little river. Derek bade the old woman farewell, and walked by the flowing river, until he reached the shore of the open sea.

The pebbled beach gave him courage. Glass, iron, stones, everything that lay there on the shore had taken its shape from the same power, and felt as smooth, or even smoother, than his own delicate skin. _The water rolls on without weariness,_ he thought. _Till all that is hard becomes smooth; so will I be unwearied in my task._ And out loud, he spoke, “Thank you for your lessons, bright rolling waves; my heart tells me you will lead me to to my dear sisters.”

Sunset approached, as did the need for Derek to seek shelter for the night. But in the light of the setting sun he saw what the old woman had seen - eleven white swans flying, one behind the other, like a long white ribbon.

He watched in wonder as the swans alighted on the shore quite close to him, and approached him at speed. It was at this moment that the last ray of sun disappeared under the water, and the feathers of the swans began to moult. The swans transformed before Derek’s eyes into a pack of eleven young wolves, ones that he loved dearly.

Derek uttered a joyful cry and ran to his sisters, calling them each by name. They pushed their snouts against him and yapped happily. He shifted to his wolf form and spent the night warmed by his sisters’ pelts at the seaside, under the watchful eye of the Moon.

When he woke, his sisters had turned to swans and flew west once again.


	2. the world is nettle (disturb it, it stings)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fairy appears to Derek in a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think maybe maximum one person is following this, lol, but anyway just wanted to say life got in the way, in particular the same sex marriage survey (Australia), but I seriously do have most of this fic already written. Will try to keep uploading :P

Derek and his sisters followed the oceanside away from their home and the witch, his sisters flying as swans for the better part of the day and returning to land in time for their transformation. During the day Derek imagined them transforming in mid air, falling into the ocean or their bodies dashed against the ground, and shivered in fear. He prayed to the Moon for her help. “How can I break this spell?” Derek asked, over and over.

It was on the second night that his prayers were answered. He dreamed that he was walking through the forest and a fairy came out of the trees to meet him, radiant and beautiful in appearance, and yet very much like the old woman who had been picking berries in the wood.

“Your sisters can be released,” said she, “if you have only courage and perseverance. True, water is softer than your own delicate hands, and yet it polishes stones into shapes; it feels no pain as your fingers would feel, it has no soul, and cannot suffer such agony and torment as your will have to endure.” She held out her hand. “Do you see the stinging nettle which I hold in my hand? Quantities of the same sort grow all over, but none of it will be of any use to you unless they grow upon the graves in a churchyard.”

A shiver passed through Derek. The fairy continued, “Break them to pieces with your hands and feet, and they will become flax, from which you must spin and weave eleven coats with long sleeves; if these are then thrown over the eleven swans, the spell will be broken.”

She had his full attention now. Derek stepped forward and looked closely at the nettle to commit it to memory. 

“But remember -” said the fairy - “from the moment you commence your task until it is finished, even should it occupy years of your life, you must not speak. The first word you utter will pierce through the hearts of your sisters like a deadly dagger. Their lives hang upon your tongue.”

The dream began to fade as Derek shook his head frantically. “Remember all I have told you.” 

As she finished speaking, she touched his hand lightly with the nettle, and a pain, as of burning fire, awoke Derek.

It was broad daylight, and close by where he had been sleeping lay a nettle like the one he had seen in his dream. He did not waste time, and immediately set out on foot in search of a graveyard.

He followed the fairy’s instructions diligently, and each night his sisters took the pain from his hands and feet, until the sun returned and feathers sprouted over them once again.


	3. a lonely king

Derek had started on his second coat, utterly absorbed by enduring the pain in his hands and feet, when he was greatly startled by a large dog barking to announce its presence. He looked up to find a horse, and atop the horse, a regal man who at once disembarked and brought his dog to heel.

Derek’s breath caught in his throat. The man was very handsome, with sparkling eyes and long, lean limbs. Derek would be speechless at this moment regardless of any curse. 

The man advanced towards him, for he himself had never seen a more beautiful man than Derek. “How did you come to be here?” he inquired. 

Derek simply shook his head. He dared not speak, at the cost of his sisters’ lives. 

It did not put the man off - instead he stepped closer, and said curiously, “What is this work with which you employ yourself?”

As he stepped forward, Derek’s eye caught a glimpse of gold, and he saw a crown nestled in luscious hair. The man was a _King_ _.  _

“You’re hurt!” The King gasped, and without pretence, knelt down by Derek’s side. “Are you mad? Let go the nettles!”

Derek bowed his head and dropped the nettles. He suddenly felt faint, and realised it had been quite some time since he ate. He also became very conscious of his appearance, which was in total disarray. His hair, once long, flowing and shining, was in interminable knots; his hands and feet dirty and bloody. He was not fit for audience with even the oldest, most plain-looking King.

Derek looked up and was startled to find the King’s eyes mere inches away, searching his own. “You have damaged your hands so. What would possess you to do such a thing?”

The King took his hands gently, tutting in concern. Derek was, for the first time, thankful that the nettle counteracted his healing powers - his hands remained raw and red under the King’s inspection. The King's dog sniffed at his fingertips and whined in confusion. 

“What is your name?” 

Derek looked into the King’s eyes beseechingly, trying to communicate without a word,  _ I am not a threat, just leave me here alone.  _ The King looked back, mouth gaping slightly open and eyebrows drawing together minutely. At length he asked, “Can you not speak?” 

With only a moment's hesitation, Derek shook his head, feeling an inexplicable blush rise in his cheeks.

The King nodded gravely, and began to walk back towards his horse, dog following close behind. Derek felt a sharp pang of disappointment despite getting exactly what he had wished - the King had clearly lost interest and would leave shortly. 

But he simply rummaged in his saddlebag and, on his return, he insisted on wrapping Derek’s hands in cloth, chattering about nothing of great import. He even offered Derek some berries and cheese, helping him to bring the food to his mouth when bandaged hands got in the way.

It was not long before the King left with a wink and a smile, the dog with a bark and a baleful stare, and Derek was left wondering if the whole affair had been nothing but a waking dream.

  
  


* * *

* * *

 

Just as Derek started on his third coat, gritting his teeth through the constant fresh pain and itch of the nettles, the King reappeared. “Why, it is you again!” he called out. Derek was startled to see the King astride his horse a few paces down the ocean’s shore. 

Derek looked down at the mess of nettle and flax in his arms, the way his hands were raw and puffy, and hastily dropped everything as the King approached. He resolutely did not speak, only nodding in acknowledgement. 

“Silent and mysterious as ever,” The King commented, sounding amused as he dismounted from his steed. But when his eyes dropped to the nettle in Derek’s lap, he frowned in confusion and frustration. 

“You continue to engage in this fruitless activity?” the King said. “Why do you insist on harming yourself?” 

He fetched some bandages from his saddle bag and knelt by Derek’s side. Derek tried to move away, but hissed in pain as rough granules of sand dug into his palms and the soles of his feet. 

“Easy, easy,” the King soothed. He reached over and gently yet firmly took hold of Derek’s wrist, and they were so close Derek could almost count the King’s eyelashes.

“I have had a somewhat lonely ride today," the King said absentmindedly as he wrapped Derek's left hand. "I do not have Anielka with me. The poor thing has a litter on the way."

"Well, how rude of me," the King muttered to himself, "I believe I have not even introduced myself. Fancy that, I introduce my dog before myself. It truly is a danger to place me in contact with a man who cannot speak." He laughed and shook his head, moving on to Derek's right hand. "My name is Stiles. King Stilinski, to be proper, but this is my leisure time, hence, Stiles. That is my name.” He paused from tending to Derek’s hand and gazed up at him through his eyelashes. “To one so beautiful as yourself, at least.”

The words sent a warm ripple to Derek’s core.

Once both hands were wrapped, the King folded his own hands over them and looked earnestly into Derek’s eyes. “Come with me,” he said; “here you cannot remain.”

Grasping Derek’s elbow, he helped him to stand. Derek grimaced in pain, but dared not utter a sound.

“If you are as good as you are beautiful,” the King continued, “I will dress you in silk and velvet, I will place a golden crown upon your head, and you shall dwell, and rule, and make your home in my richest castle.”

Derek shook his head firmly. He needed to stay, to weave the shirts for his sisters. He could not undo the progress he had made - he  _ would not  _ be distracted by a charming, regal face and some pretty words. 

“I have thought of you often since our first meeting.” One hand still gripping Derek’s elbow, the King reached up to brush a lock of dark hair out of Derek’s eyes and over his ear. “I can tell by your countenance that you do not belong here, life beholden to the whims and wiles of Mother Nature.” 

The King checked to ensure Derek’s stance was steady, and took a step back to give him space. Derek felt cared for in a way that made him miss his sisters sorely. His heart fluttered in his chest, a tiny bird trapped in a cage of bone.

“Come,” the King continued, holding his hands out as if he begged for coin. “Let me lift you to the back of my horse. Truly, it would be my honour.”

Derek inched towards the nettle and flax, shaking his head again. The King heaved a put-upon sigh, and threw his arms out in defeat.

“I will allow you to bring your precious nettle and flax, though I do not approve of such self-destructive activities.”

Derek stared at the King in disbelief and the resistance drained out of him in an instant. The King smiled widely and stepped forward to assist Derek in packing the nettle, flax, and completed shirts into a pack. He eyed the shirts curiously, but didn’t say a word.

Captivated, enchanted, and more than a little overwhelmed, Derek allowed himself to be helped on to the horse. When the King mounted, their bodies were flush against each other, and Derek thanked the Sun and Moon that the King could not see how he blushed. A shiver went through him when the King placed Derek’s bandaged hands gently around his waist, murmuring “hold on to me.”

As they set off, Derek could only pray that his sisters would follow him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for letting me know you are reading. It really helps motivate me to upload. This chapter was the hardest because I wanted UST but also fairytale vibes...
> 
> The horse's name is obviously Roscoe :P


	4. wicked deeds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek lives at Stiles's castle, and Stiles makes a terrible mistake.

On arriving at the castle, King Stilinski led Derek through the marble halls where the walls and the ceilings were covered with rich paintings. Patiently, Derek allowed the Kings’ staff to dress him in royal robes, to weave pearls into his hair, and draw soft gloves over his blistered fingers. 

As Derek stood before the court, he looked so dazzlingly beautiful that they bowed low in his presence. The King’s expression was one of pure delight and awe. He turned to the archbishop and declared privately his intention to make Derek his groom.The archbishop shook his head, and whispered that the fair young man was only a witch who had blinded the king’s eyes and bewitched his heart. The King disregarded the archbishop, focusing instead on Derek approaching him shyly.

He took one of Derek’s gloved hands and kissed it softly. “I do wish you would tell me your name,” he said. “I would like to know how to properly thank the Gods for gifting you to me.” 

Derek’s skin tingled under the King’s serious gaze. He nodded silently, thinking to himself,  _ would that your Gods were able to end my suffering, I would pray to them also. _

 

* * *

* * *

 

Each night that Derek spent in the castle, he crept into the forest and howled for his sisters, so that they could be sure of his safety. In the mornings he broke his fast with the King, and each morning felt himself fall for the King more surely. He cherished every mischievous smile, each kiss on the hand (and later, his cheek, which inevitably left Derek blushing a pretty red), and each rambling story about the King’s childhood. 

He loved the kind, handsome king, who did everything to make him happy more and more each day; he loved him with all his heart, and his eyes beamed with the love he dared not speak. And oh, how desperately he wished to comfort the King as he recalled the tragic death of his mother when he was young; described his father’s descent into the bottle; spoke of the loneliness and fear that plagued him. Derek itched to offer words of comfort, to share his own grief. 

But silent he must remain till his task was finished. He could only reach across the table and touch the King’s hand in wordless support. At moments like these, the King would stare into Derek’s eyes intently, and it almost seemed as if he could understand Derek perfectly. 

* * *

* * *

 

Each day Derek wove the flax into coat after coat, drawing strength from his memories of mornings spent with the King. But when he began the seventh coat he realised he had run out of flax. Therefore, that night he crept into the garden in broad moonlight, and passed through the narrow walks and the deserted streets, til he reached the churchyard. Then he saw on one of the broad tombstones a group of ghouls. These hideous creatures took off their rags, as if they intended to bathe, and then, clawing open the fresh graves with their long, skinny fingers, pulled out the dead bodies and ate the flesh!

Derek had to pass close by them, and they fixed their wicked glances upon him. He snarled at them, letting his eyes flash, and they scattered. He then gathered the burning nettles to carry with him home to the castle.

One person only had seen him, and that was the archbishop - he was awake while everybody was asleep. Now he thought his opinion was evidently correct. All was not right with the King’s boy. He was a witch, and had bewitched the king and all the people. 

Secretly he told King Stilinski what he had seen and what he feared. The strange boy had communed with sinister beings from beyond the grave, and loitered in the graveyard to carry out some dark magic.

As the hard words came from his tongue, the carved images of the saints shook their heads as if they would say, “It is not so, Derek is innocent.” But the archbishop interpreted it in another way; he believed that the saints witnessed against the King’s boy, and were shaking their heads at his wickedness. 

Two large tears rolled down the King’s cheeks, and he went home with doubt in his heart, and at night he pretended to sleep, but there came no real sleep to his eyes.

 

 

* * *

* * *

As days went by, Derek noticed that the King seemed less cheerful than usual, but he knew not why and could not ask. It alarmed him and made his heart tremble for his sisters. He had almost finished his task; only one coat was wanting, but he had no flax left, and not a single nettle. Once more only, and for the last time, must he venture to the churchyard and pluck enough to complete the last coat. 

Derek thought with terror of the solitary walk, and of the horrible ghouls, but his will was firm. He went, and this time, the King and archbishop followed him. They saw him vanish through the wicket gate into the churchyard, and when they came nearer they saw the ghouls sitting on the tombstone, saw the King’s boy growl and flash his eyes at them as he passed, and the King turned away his head, convinced that his boy was of the same realm as the ghouls. 

He felt betrayed, and a cold anger took over his heart for a single stubborn moment that would change the course of their lives. 

“The people must condemn him,” said King Stilinski, and Derek was quickly condemned by everyone to suffer death by fire. 


	5. happily ever after

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fairytale ending :)

Against the wishes of the archbishop, the King granted Derek one last night in his chambers, and Derek almost cried with relief at the sight of the nettle he had collected, which remained. He refused to look at the King, who had already lost his resolve, but found he could not turn the tide of the townspeople back in Derek’s favour. 

The temptation was too much as the King departed the room - Derek looked up and was arrested by the sight of the King, whose shoulders sagged and eyes glittered with unshed tears as he locked the door behind him. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but proved to be speechless, quieter than Derek had ever seen him before. Where just yesterday they seemed to be able to communicate without words, now there seemed to be whole worlds separating them. 

But there was no time to dwell on his heartbreak. As soon as the lock clicked, Derek picked up the nettle and began to work. Little mice ran about the floor, they dragged the nettles to his feet, to help as well as they could; and thrush sat outside the grating of the window, and sang to him the whole night long, as sweetly as possible, to keep up his spirits.

 

* * *

* * *

It was still twilight, and at least an hour before sunrise, when the eleven sister wolves stole into the castle grounds, drawn by the pack bond they shared with Derek. In the morning the guards collected Derek and dragged him on to a cart even as he clutched the flax coats to his chest. The wolves sprang to attack the guards; however at this moment, the sun rose. The eleven wolves were no more, and eleven wild swans flew away over the castle. Derek’s heart sank in despair at the sight, but he resolutely continued to work on the last coat.

And now all the people came streaming forth from the gates of the city, to see the witch burnt. An old horse drew the cart on which Derek sat. They had dressed him in a garment of coarse sackcloth. His lovely hair hung loose on his shoulders, his cheeks were deadly pale, his lips moved silently, while his fingers still worked at the green flax. Even on the way to death, he would not give up his task. The ten coats lay at his feet and he was working hard at the eleventh, while the mob jeered at him and said, “see the witch, how he mutters! He has no hymn-book in his hand. He sits there with his ugly sorcery. Let us tear it in a thousand pieces.”

And then they pressed towards him, and would have destroyed the coats, but at that moment eleven wild swans flew over him, and alighted on the cart. Then they flapped their large wings, and the crowd drew to one side in alarm. 

“It is a sign from heaven that he is innocent,” whispered many of them; but they ventured not to say it aloud. 

The executioner beckoned to Derek just as he came to the last few stitches on the last coat. He stood, and hastily threw the eleven coats over the swans, and they immediately became eleven beautiful girls and women; but the youngest had a swan’s wing, for Derek had not been able to finish the last sleeve of her coat.

“Now I may speak,” he exclaimed. He sought out the eyes of the King, who stood on a platform at some distance, frozen in shock. “I am innocent.”

Then the people, who saw what happened, bowed to him, as before a saint; but Derek sank lifeless in the arms of his sisters, overcome with suspense, anguish, and pain. 

“Yes, he is innocent!” cried the eldest sister. She bared her teeth fiercely at anyone who tried to approach. A younger sister spoke up to relate what had taken place, and as she spoke, there rose in the air a fragrance as from a million roses. 

Every piece of kindling in the pyre built to burn Derek had taken root, and threw out branches, and appeared a thick hedge, large and high, covered with roses; while above all bloomed a white and shining flower, that glittered like a star. 

The King descended from his platform and this white flower he plucked. When Derek awoke from his swoon, the King was at his side, kneeling without pretence, as if they were not closely watched by throngs of people. 

“My love,” the King whispered when Derek woke up. Despite everything, a tremulous smile overtook his face. “To hear your voice is truly a balm to my soul.”

“I am innocent,” Derek insisted, sitting upright. “We are all innocent. My sisters -”

“Hush,” the King soothed, with a steadying hand on Derek’s shoulder. “I believe you. No harm will come to you or your sisters, I give you my word.” Derek relaxed visibly when he saw his sisters standing safely by his side.  

“Please, will you take this flower as a token of my apology?” The King presented to him the shining white flower from the pyre, and Derek nodded, taking the flower carefully. 

“Now that you have found your voice, is it okay if I ask you something, to set my poor heart at ease?” 

Though he had indeed found his voice, Derek discovered that it was quite useless at this proximity to the King, and in any case, he had not been particularly loquacious even before the curse. He could only nod his consent. 

The King took a bracing breath. “I know I do not deserve your admiration after what has occurred here.” Derek stared down at the white flower, unable to watch the tears falling from the King’s eyes. “I want to spend the rest of my time in this realm paying you penance for my mistakes. If you could give me your name, I would be honoured to ask you to marry me - and to begin my penance today.”

Startled, Derek looked up, searching the King’s glistening eyes for any sign of treachery. He found only a sincerity and love so palpable that it stole his breath.

“My name is Derek Hale.”

A hopeful grin lit up the King’s face. “A name fit for a king,” he remarked playfully. Then he took Derek’s hands in his, the white flower cradled between their fingers. “Derek Hale,” the King whispered, “will you do me the honour of becoming my husband?”

In answer, Derek simply leaned forward to close the distance between their lips. 

All the church bells rang of themselves, and the birds came in great troops. And a marriage procession returned to the castle, such as no king had ever seen before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the eldest sister is Laura and the younger sister is Cora :)


End file.
